Vulture of the Alps

Collected by Mary Celestia Parler
Sung by Mrs. Attie Dillingham Fayetteville, Arkansas June 5, 1959
Reel 318, Item 1
The Vulture of the Alps
I lived among the mighty Alps,
And wandered through their vales,
And heard the honest mountaineers Relate their dismal tales.
While sitting round the blazing hearth, My daily task was o'er,
They spoke of those who disappeared And ne'er was heard of more.
And there from a shepherd man,
A narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal's heart,
Which mothers might not hear.
The tears were standing in his eye,
His voice was tremulous,
Though wiping all his tears away,
He told his story thus:
It is among those mighty Alps,
The ravenous vulture dwells,
Who fattens not upon the prey That from afar he smells,
Though patient waiting hour on hour, Upon a lofty rock,
He singles out to over-power The victim from the flock.
One cloudless Sabbath summer morn,
The sun was rising high,
When from my children on the green, There rose a fearful cry;
As if some awful deed was done,
They shrieked aloud in vain;
Such cries I humbly trust to God I ne'er shall hear again.
I rushing out to learn the cause,
Though overwhelmed with fright.
(Cont'd)
The Vulture of the Alps Reel 318, Item 1 Continued
My children never ceased to scream To see their friend in sight.
I missed the youngest of my babes,
The darling of my care,
When something caught my searching eye,
Slow sailing through the air.
The vulture flapped his sail-like wings,
Though heavily he flew,
A mote upon the sun's broad face,
Unto my view he seemed.
little infant stretched his arms,
Imploringly to me,
And struggled with the ravenous bird,
All vainly to get free.
At intervals I heard his cry,
Though loud he shrieked and screamed,
A mote upon the azure sky,
A glistening spot he seemed.
A search was made and years had passed,
The child was never got,
Until a daring hunter climbed Unto a lofty spot.
He clambered up that rugged cliff,
Where shoe had never reached,
He spied an infant's fleshless bones,
The elements had bleached.
I struggled up that rugged cliff,
I could not stay away,
I knew they were my infant's bones A-hastening to decay.
A tattered garment yet remained,
Though torn to many a shred,
The crimson cap he wore that morn Was yet upon his head.
"My father, G.L. Hart, back in Kentucky, used to sing this song when I was a small child. It made such an impression on me; and I
(Cont'd)
The Vulture of the Alps Reel 318, Item 1 Continued
always remember that when I was about four or five, there was an eagle—which was unusual—flew over our area, I ran and hid, on ac­count of what he sang about the eagle carrying the child away...
This was about 75 miles southeast of Louisville, in Grayson County."
MCP: The Library of Congress sent Mrs. Dillingham the words to this
song 'as performed at the concerts of the Hutchinson Family' and at the bottom of the page it says, 'Words arranged from the First Class Reader, Music by J.J. Hutchinson, published by Firth and Hall, Number 1 Franklin Square, 1873.'

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Collected by Mary Celestia Parler
Sung by Mrs. Attie Dillingham Fayetteville, Arkansas June 5, 1959
Reel 318, Item 1
The Vulture of the Alps
I lived among the mighty Alps,
And wandered through their vales,
And heard the honest mountaineers Relate their dismal tales.
While sitting round the blazing hearth, My daily task was o'er,
They spoke of those who disappeared And ne'er was heard of more.
And there from a shepherd man,
A narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal's heart,
Which mothers might not hear.
The tears were standing in his eye,
His voice was tremulous,
Though wiping all his tears away,
He told his story thus:
It is among those mighty Alps,
The ravenous vulture dwells,
Who fattens not upon the prey That from afar he smells,
Though patient waiting hour on hour, Upon a lofty rock,
He singles out to over-power The victim from the flock.
One cloudless Sabbath summer morn,
The sun was rising high,
When from my children on the green, There rose a fearful cry;
As if some awful deed was done,
They shrieked aloud in vain;
Such cries I humbly trust to God I ne'er shall hear again.
I rushing out to learn the cause,
Though overwhelmed with fright.
(Cont'd)
The Vulture of the Alps Reel 318, Item 1 Continued
My children never ceased to scream To see their friend in sight.
I missed the youngest of my babes,
The darling of my care,
When something caught my searching eye,
Slow sailing through the air.
The vulture flapped his sail-like wings,
Though heavily he flew,
A mote upon the sun's broad face,
Unto my view he seemed.
little infant stretched his arms,
Imploringly to me,
And struggled with the ravenous bird,
All vainly to get free.
At intervals I heard his cry,
Though loud he shrieked and screamed,
A mote upon the azure sky,
A glistening spot he seemed.
A search was made and years had passed,
The child was never got,
Until a daring hunter climbed Unto a lofty spot.
He clambered up that rugged cliff,
Where shoe had never reached,
He spied an infant's fleshless bones,
The elements had bleached.
I struggled up that rugged cliff,
I could not stay away,
I knew they were my infant's bones A-hastening to decay.
A tattered garment yet remained,
Though torn to many a shred,
The crimson cap he wore that morn Was yet upon his head.
"My father, G.L. Hart, back in Kentucky, used to sing this song when I was a small child. It made such an impression on me; and I
(Cont'd)
The Vulture of the Alps Reel 318, Item 1 Continued
always remember that when I was about four or five, there was an eagle—which was unusual—flew over our area, I ran and hid, on ac­count of what he sang about the eagle carrying the child away...
This was about 75 miles southeast of Louisville, in Grayson County."
MCP: The Library of Congress sent Mrs. Dillingham the words to this
song 'as performed at the concerts of the Hutchinson Family' and at the bottom of the page it says, 'Words arranged from the First Class Reader, Music by J.J. Hutchinson, published by Firth and Hall, Number 1 Franklin Square, 1873.'